The Marriage Sham
by ImpalaPorn
Summary: Castiel is a brilliant college student, struggling to make ends meet and pay tuition. Dean's from a rich family, with parents who are forcing him to get married. Maybe he can't find the love of his life in a week, but he can sure as hell fake it. And if it means getting his tuition paid, Castiel's game for anything... and it's not like he'll fall for the jerk anyway... Destiel, au.
1. Prologue

Hello my lovely little Destiel Shippers! I've decided to do a Story I like to call the Marraige Sham... I don't know where I've heard this plot before... but it was somewhere... and well... I just HAD to... Dean and Cas... c'mon! Anyway, I really hope you like it, and review if you think I should continue. I love you for lciking on this, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Prologue**

"Dean, we aren't doing this to be unfair, we promise, we care about you very much… it's just…" Dean scoffed slightly, running a hand through his shirt blonde hair. The woman who had been speaking sighed lightly. "Dean, sweetie…" She closed her brown eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, and turning to her husband, a tall man with wispy blonde hair in a crisp, dark suit. He spoke up.

"Dean, it looks bad that your younger brother of four years gets married, and you haven't even been spotted in a long-term relationship, people are starting to question your morals…" Dean looked up, giving the man in the chair a hard glare with his green eyes. The man sighed, shrugging his shoulders, the suit bunching up a bit around his arms. "Dean, we know there is nothing wrong with your morals. You're a great boy, and we love you, we have since the day we adopted you… however, the media doesn't see it in a similar way." Dean rolled his eyes. "Dean, Sam's marriage to Jessica was phenomenal, but it also raised some serious questions about you. Look, I'm not saying it has to be someone from 'our neck of the woods'. They don't have or to be rich, or involved in politics." He paused, recalling a particularly awkward conversation he'd had with Dean several years ago. "They don't even have to be a girl, Dean. But _someone._ You've got to see this from my point of view, Dean, what am I supposed the tell that girl and her family?" Dean scoffed again.

"How about, no? Or, Dean isn't interested in girls that much anymore, or Dean doesn't want to marry you? Or Dean's dead? Not okay!" He shouted, causing the woman to open her eyes, giving him a gentle look. "Why does she even want to get hitched with me, anyway?"

"Our families work very closely together, and a marriage would be beneficial to the public view. Sam was already courting Jess, and I believe Margie was always interested in you anyway, rather broken up when you paid her no attention at social events…" He trailed off, fiddling with a paperweight on his desk. "Look Dean, being in politics has its risks. And I know you didn't sign up for any of this… but you have to try and level with us here."  
Dean wanted to scream, he wanted to shout. He wanted to tell them they had no right to determine the status of his love life. But he couldn't. He owed them. When Dean had been ten, and Sam had been six, his parents had died in a house fire. John and Mary Winchester, who had loved both of their boys, had unwillingly left them behind to fend for themselves. The boys had spent two years in foster care, Dean fighting to take care of Sam, the two of them fighting together. There had been a series of houses, foster families, and social workers, but none of them were interested in keeping Dean and Sam together. And Dean and Sam were not interested in being separated. So, whenever a threat of separation popped up, Dean and Sam acted out, effectively eliminating that threat. This went on until Dean was twelve and Sam was eight, the two of them broken, and bruised, but still fighting.

Then one day, something just a bit short of a miracle happened. Amy and Paul Smith had walked into the Foster home. Paul Smith, a popular politician, a local hero, and in the running for senator had been trying to conceive a baby with his beautiful dark haired wife, Amy. After several attempts and a doctor's trip, they realized Paul was sterile. They weighed their options, and decided on adoption rather than artificial insemination, or other methods. And from the moment the blonde-haired, honey-eyed man had walked in with his wife, they had been drawn to Sammy. Of course they had. He was smart, adorable, charismatic kid. They had immediately shown interest in adoption. And Sam had quickly informed them that he was not interested in going anywhere without his brother, Dean. These words coming form the eight year-old's mouth had shocked them a bit, but then something happened that had never happened before. Amy had dropped down to her knees, happiness leaking from those kind chocolate eyes, a smile on her face.

"Well then, I suppose we'll have to take him with us too." And just like that, (well, after the necessary paper-work and waiting period) Sam and Dean had a home.

Of course, the popular public figure and politician Paul Smith adopting two little boys was all over the news, however the boys were too young to realize things such as that. They were too excited to have a home.

Sam immediately loved it. He was enrolled in elementary school near their house, and was given all the books he could possibly read. He received a mini-biology kit as a welcome gift, and spent hours going over Paul's work with him in his study. It was the nerdy kid's dream.

Dean was happy to see Sam happy. And it was not like the Smiths were not nice people. Because they absolutely were, but Dean had been older when their parents died. Remembered them more… felt almost like he was… betraying them. So it had taken Dean longer to warm up. He was polite and cordial, but nothing beyond that.

However, Amy Smith had tried extra hard to bond with Dean. And bond with Dean she did. She baked him his favorite pies, took him to the park to play, and watched his favorite movies with him. She read to him and always gave him love and care, taking him to and from school. In no time, Dean began to open up. Dean began to love his new parents.

That didn't change the fact that he had been scared shitless to tell them when he was seventeen, and he realized he was bi-sexual. He still did like girls,, but he was finding that he preferred men… lean and muscled bodies instead of soft curves. And he was old enough now to realize that especially because of his father's political standing, a gay, _adopted_ son could cause a scandal. Even if his father was a democrat and all.

But when he had taken a breath and told them, he received nothing but acceptance. His mother had smiled and told him she loved him, no matter who he loved. His father hadn't said much, instead only giving him a short nod and saying,

"You've grown to a good man, doesn't matter much to me. Besides, it'll be nice to give some of the stick-up-the-ass dicks a work with a good culture-shock." And Dean had been happy. And so had Sam. Sam had done exceptionally well, graduating high school with honors, and attending freakin' Stanford Law! He'd met a pretty, nice blonde girl named Jess, and dated her for several years, before eventually proposing, ad marrying her. The ceremony had been beautiful, and Dean was the best man. And Sam seemed happy.

Dean had taken advantage of his new life as well. He'd studied hard, and went to school for art, a talent of his that he had never been to keen on sharing. His parents supported him, and he lived in small apartment, selling paintings when he could, working at an auto-shop for extra money. He never asked his parents for more than they'd already given him, and he was happy with his simple lifestyle. That didn't keep the media away though. Dean had never been in any long-term relationships, somewhat of a player, and focused on the hardships his life had dealt him. And recently, newspaper headlines had been something like, 'The Oldest Smith Suffering from Social Issues,' or, 'A Smith Wedding… and a Solitude Lifestyle.' His father had even been asked some questions about it at press conferences. It was frankly embarrassing, and now, it had given the father of Margie Stubbs ammunition.

Jonathan Stubbs was a politician who had more than one run-in with Paul Smith. He had wanted nothing more than to become closer to Paul, seeing as he had a higher social standing. So, since Dean had turned fifteen, he had been trying to set him up for marriage with his daughter Margie. The offers had always been politely refused, but hadn't stopped, even when the gay thing came into the light. Margie seemed quite keen with the idea, and had begun to spread rumors that there was something suspicious about the fact he wouldn't marry her. Dean couldn't exactly say that it was because she was a rich, ungrateful bitch.

And now there was this. Paul was facing a political scandal, and was pretty much pleading for Dean's help, something he'd never done before. And Dean felt that he owed it to him to pay him back. But… to get married? And so soon? To Margie? Dean sighed, looking at his mother.

"I want to help you guys… but… Margie…" the corners of Amy's mouth twitched into a small smile. Paul smiled as well, shrugging.

"It's the best we have, and you've made it clear you aren't seeing anyone." Dean scowled slightly, envisioning coming home to a large house, and Margie, maybe a dog and some kids. Margie's kids. The image was not pretty. Dean scowled deeper.

"I mean, if you were in a relationship, I might be able to give you some time, but the media has really been running with this story. It seems like a much bigger deal than it really is, and I'm going to have to do something about it." Dean didn't argue, he owed them. He really did… and somehow, Dean couldn't fight the slowly forming idea in his head.

"Sweetie." Said his mother, looking up to meet his eyes. "I would give anything not to have to do this." Dean was barely listening, as the idea began to form more clearly. Then his father spoke up, grabbing his attention.

"So, I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if I told Margie you agreed." As he said this, he reached for the phone, Dean's eyes widening.

"No! Stop!" Paul stopped, and Amy sighed.

"Dean…" Dean held up a hand, silencing her.

"You can't tell Margie that I'll marry her because…" It was probably a bad idea to lie… but…. "because I'm already seeing someone!" Idea spoken aloud. Amy's eyes widened, Paul raised his eyebrows.

"Dean…" Amy said softly, looking slightly hurt. "Why didn't you…" Dean forced a laugh, pushing down the small feeling of guilt.

"I'm really sorry I didn't… tell you mom I just…" He shrugged again, looking at the royal blue carpet.

"When do we get to meet them?" Came Paul's voice, slow and steady, not even questioning the identity of said person. Dean panicked for a second, before slowly answering.

"Well, they've been pretty busy lately with… school." He supplied fumbling over his words. "But, it's pretty serious and I'm sure this whole thing won't be a problem." Amy stayed silent, lips pressed together, while Paul leaned forward.

"Very well, Dean." He put the phone down. And looked up at his adoptive son. "You have a week to 'bite the proverbial bullet' and ask if they're willing to tie the knot…" His expression became slightly threatening, yet apologetic at the same time. "Or I'm afraid I'll have to call Margie's father." Dean nodded quickly glancing at his mother, then to his shoes.

"Shouldn't be a problem." He said, looking at the door. "I have to get to the shop, but I love you guys, see you tomorrow!" And with that he made a hasty exit, running out of the large house, down the marble steps, and not stopping until he slammed the door to his black 67' Chevy Impala, leaning against the leather and sighing deeply. He rubbed his forehead with calloused hands.

"I'm so screwed."

* * *

"Mr. Novak? Could you come up here a second?" Castiel's large, crystal blue eyes looked up from under his dark lashes, pulling the pen from between his chapped pink lips with an inaudible pop. He dropped it on his desk, quickly gathering his notebooks, and textbooks into his black shoulder bag, and sauntering over to the professor's desk while the other students filed out of the classroom.

His blue-button down scrunched at the shoulders under the weight of the strap, displaying some of his pale shoulder. With a sigh, he re-adjusted the bag, then ran a hand through his dark mop of disarrayed hair, then he reached the desk.

His professor waited several moments until all of the students were out of the lecture hall, before taking his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Castiel tilted his head in confusion, looking down at the man.

"Professor Shurley?" He man looked up with kind eyes. Castiel had always liked him. He had a bit of the scatter-brained professor thing going on, but he was kind, and a wonderful language teacher. He sometimes said he's had ideas come to him while he was sleeping, and had published several books about two brothers named Jared and Jensen who hunted monsters. He'd read them. They were okay.

"Castiel…" He sighed wearily, leafing through several papers on his desktop. Castiel quirked an eyebrow and waited for the man to continue. "Your most recent assignment was… wonderful. I don't think I've ever seen such exemplary work from a student." Castiel smiled slightly, sensing something was off, although the compliment warmed him.

"Thank you, sir." Professor Shurley smiled studying the desktop.

"However…" Castiel knew it. "You are… very behind on your tuition. I know you've taken a lot out with student loans, and you owe that to the school… which is fine to pay off over time… however your semester tuition is late for this semester… and the last." Castiel felt his stomach drop. He knew that he was late on tuition. And he knew it would bit him in the ass… probably sooner rather than later… but… his life had been hard.

He'd lived with a large family, seven brothers and sister. His mother had died when he was very young… and Castiel's father had been very religious. They hadn't… seen eye to eye. After discovering Castiel preferred males to women… he had reacted badly… and had been sent to prison. He was taken care of by his six older brothers and sister. And one by one, they left. Michael had died in a car crash, and Lucifer, (or Luke as they called him) had never gotten over it, and had moved away. Uriel and Raphael had graduated from college and gotten jobs, moving to different states and maintaining little contact until… eventually… nothing. The hardest had been when his older sister, Anna, had tried to kill herself. She was currently in a recovery hospital, not trusting herself to come out yet. Frankly, Castiel hadn't either. Which left Gabriel. His older brother of only three years, who supported Castiel with everything he had, working three jobs, trying to put Castiel through college. Castiel was no slacker however he worked two jobs as well, and also helped to cover rent on their apartment.

They'd done okay so far he was in his second to last year. But it was getting harder and harder. Gabriel was fired from his third job, and Castiel insisted to give all of his money directly to the apartment. Gabriel wouldn't let Castiel drop out though, because he firmly believed Castiel was the smartest kid ever. He'd gotten high-flying grades in high school, and was in many academic clubs. His grades had slipped senior year during his family drama, and he missed a few tests while taking care of Anna, smashing his chanced for scholarships. Thus, this is what happened.

Castiel looked down to his teacher. "I know, I'm so sorry Professor, I'm trying, I really am." Professor Shurley gave him a sympathetic look.

"I know Castiel, I know. And I have tried to hold them off… I've been on your side…" He paused and took a deep breath. "But Castiel, you have about a week to pay off most of your tuition fees, or we're going to need to remove you from the school. I'm so sorry Castiel, I really am." Castiel just nodded, forcing a small smile.

"No, I completely understand Mr. Shurley. Thank you for your kindness, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." With that, Castiel curtly exited the room, walking from the building, staring at the ground. After walking for several moments, he stopped outside under a tree, red and gold and yellow, several leaves falling around him. He leaned his back against the tree, dropping his head against the trunk, and staring at the paper-white sky.

"I am so screwed."

* * *

There we go, chapter one of The Marriage Sham. You see that review button? Click it and feed it, and more chapters will be coming your way soon! Love you!


	2. A Collision of Unfortunate Souls

I can not thank you guys enough for your response on my first chapter... it inspired me to write! So I finished up my homework super fast, and whipped this out for you guys, my lovely darlings! Here is chapter two of my first SPN multi-chapter fic, The Marraige Sham. I really am a whore for reviews, and each one makes me so happy, so please do review... it'll inspire me to write faster ;) and please, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two: Collision of Unfortunate Souls**

Dean had spent about five minutes with his head resting on the leather seat of the Impala, before he'd finally put her into drive, and pulled out of the unnecessarily long stone driveway. He loved his parents, he really did, he just… the lifestyle was a bit excessive for him. But they'd never minded his simplicity. Dean reached one hand forward, cranking up the AC/DC that was softly pouring from his baby's speakers.

"Highhwayy to hell…" He softly sang under his breath, while driving the familiar few blocks towards his apartment building. He had to drive right through downtown to get there, something he'd always enjoyed. There was a little park, where people often went to paint the scenery, and though people had always been more of his forte, it really was beautiful. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. The small shops and bookstores blurred together as he zoomed past, not slowing until a particular bakery came into view. He smirked, pulling the Impala into the closest parking space he could find. Dean liked food, but Dean loved pie. And this place, had the best fucking pie ever. There was this one guy who worked there, Gabriel, who always cut him an extra large slice.

He was a short guy with wispy hair, kind of snarky and annoying, but the humor really grew on you after a while. He cut the engine, music abruptly going with it, and stepped out, slamming the Impala door behind him. A breeze bit him and he stuffed his hands into his worn leather jacket, before cutting across the sidewalk, and swinging open the glass door of the bakery with a light tinkle of the bells. He was immediately greeting by an annoying yell.

"Well, if it isn't one of my regular customers!" Came the voice form behind the counter. Dean looked up, and sure enough, Gabriel stood there, complete with his obnoxious red apron.

"Hey Gabe." Dean said, smirking as he sauntered to the counter. "What kind of pie you go today?" Gabriel smiled in a way that might have been described as devious, before saying happily,

"Apple." Dean could barely contain his grin.

"Sign me up." Gabe nodded as Dean handed over s few rumpled bills with a quick, "Keep the change." Within moments he had in front of him a large slice of apple pie. The sweet and cinnamon-y smell wafted to his nose and he nearly moaned. When he finally did spear a piece with his fork and put it in his mouth. He actually did moan lightly, chewing and swallowing it down. Gabe waggled his eyebrows.

"Delicioso, si?" Dean just nodded, and continued to eat his pie. He was about halfway through when suddenly, a shrill ring sounded through his pants pocket. E put down his fork and stuck a hand into his jeans, fishing out his cell phone, and flipping it open when he saw that it was Sammy.

"Sammy!" He said, swallowing the last of the pie in his mouth. The particularly loud exclamation caught Gabe's attention, and he quirked a brow. "No, I'm good… yeah I finished my last piece… of course… wow really? That's great, I'm proud of you Sammy." There was a long pause where Dean nodded along with what Sammy said, but was only half listening. He contemplated telling his little brother about his predicament with their parents, he really did… but he hated lying to Sammy. It always made him feel so guilty he nearly drank himself stupid. So, he'd put it off for as long as he could. "No Sam… of course I'll come visit you and Jess soon… you'll probably be coming here actually… oh, I just have a feeling… uhhuhh… yup… well, give Jess love… miss you too Sammy. Bye." And with that he slipped the phone shut, giving a quick sigh, and pocketing it again. He picked up his fork, only to be halted by Gabe's voice.

"Little brother?" Dean reluctantly put down his fork.

"Yeah, it's my brother, calling from Stanford… he's mad smart." So what, he liked to brag about Sammy, sue him! Gabriel just smiled, nodding.

"Huh, my little bro's in college too… almost finished… he's what you'd call extra smart as well." Dean just nodded, picking up his fork again, and responding through a mouthful of pie.

"I like to say that he got the brains, I got the looks." He took another bite. Gabriel chuckled.

"Unfortunately, my brother got the looks and the brains… I'm the funny one though." This drew a chuckle from Dean, and the rest of his pie was consumed in silence. He finished quickly, waving to Gabe and walking back out into the chilly Autumn day, climbing into his car quickly. The music was immediately turned up again, as he got farther form the downtown area, and closer to the city. He had one more stop to make. He drove through the streets lined with crowded buildings and busy people, before finally pulling over to a small, quiet library. Dean would be the first to admit that this was not his scene. Not at all. Sammy had made him come here once, though to get some kind of genius kid book, and he'd discovered something interesting.

There was this thing it the front, called the weekly bulletin, where employees posted their work, poems and limericks and stuff like that. And he's found a poem that… spoke to him. Now, he'd deny this with his last dying breath, because even though he was gay, he didn't often have such… gay thoughts. But it was a good poem, okay? It had been signed 'C', and hung up with a small thumbtack. Now, Dean had been paying regular visits to the library, to poke his head in, and looks at the work decorating the bulleting board… and… the possible poem from 'C' was just icing on the cake. And through the ocean of employees, it was impossible to tell which one was he or she. Not that it mattered to Dean… at all.

But as he pulled the Impala to the curd he couldn't help feeling the flutter of excitement as he walked up the steps, and in through the front entrance, to the board. He gave the old lady at the desk a one-handed salute, as he smiled to see there was indeed a new poem. His eyes scanned over it quickly.

I am the wings of a lost soul,

Forever wondering,

And never knowing where to go.

But soaring,

Soaring through the skies,

The tips of my wings gracing the heavens,

Yet not being able,

Although I try,

To pass through the glimmering golden gates,

For there is always that small tug,

That tiny hand,

That tightly grasps me with its horrible fingers,

Twisting and pulling,

Never actually dragging me down,

Never actually taking my soul into those,

Dark,

Fiery depths of hell,

But pulling just enough,

Just enough so that I cannot,

And will not,

Soar past the gentle white clouds,

And into the glorious arms of heaven.

For I am not undecided,

I am merely the wings of a lost soul.

Soaring forever,

Looking back,

And never knowing,

If I should have made the last turn,

Or not.

I will never know my direction,

Until the light of a revelation,

An epiphany,

Decides to grace me,

Lightly bathing me in it's glory.

But until that day,

I shall never know,

For I am merely the wings,

Of a lost soul.

'C'

Dean read over the poem again, before peeking out from under his lashes to make sure the lady at the desk was busy, and reaching up, ripping the poem down, leaving a small piece of paper on the still present thumbtack. He quickly slipped it into his jeans, then, as casually as possible, strolled out. It wasn't like they'd miss it… besides… it was calling to Dean's inner-painter, and he might want to use it as reference. The words ran through his head as he slipped into the Impala, and smiled lightly, finally on his way home.

When he finally arrived at the apartment building he had waved at the doorman, and ran in, stopping only to check his mailbox, then ignoring the elevator, (which had been broken for months) tromped up the stairs two at a time. When he finally got to the third floor, he slipped the key into the lock, opening his door, (apartment 371) and entered.

It looked the same as always; in slight disarray. There was his favorite t-shirt and a hoodie draped over the back of his armchair. He dropped his keys on the table and shrugged off his leather jacket, while observing several canvases propped up against the whitewashed walls. The jacket was thrown onto the black suede couch, his shoes toed off carelessly onto the 'Welcome Home' matt behind him as he shut the heavy wooden door with a click. All he wanted to do was sink into the couch and think about his confusing, lousy-ass day, but first, he wanted a beer. He walked through the hallways, where several paintings, (not his, from friends in school, or other artists) hung. He sidestepped a bag of tools from Bobby's that he'd left lying in the hallway. His socks scratched against the plush cream carpet, until he finally reached the kitchen, and they slid a bit on the smooth white linoleum.

He pulled open the white fridge and grabbed a beer, condensation cold on his hand, before walking back into the living room, and throwing himself onto the couch with conviction. He barely had time to flick on Doctor Sexy M.D. before he passed out on the couch, his beer hanging limply from his grip.

***Destiel***Destiel***Destiel***

Castiel already desperately messy hair got messed even more as the harsh winds of the chilly morning blew his way, tugging his tan trench coat out behind him. He was not having a good morning. He'd just left the apartment, after a rather heated discussion with his brother. He'd come home and told him about the discussion with his professor, and the result had been something like this,

"Everyone at that school is such a dick Cassie! A little self-respect for the poor, eh?" Castiel had looked down.

"Gabriel… I think it's time maybe we consider… that I should drop out." Gabriel's humor had dropped off of his face.

"Cassie, we talked about this, no amount of work is worth risking your education… your writing, you could be wonderful… I'll just pick up another shift." Castiel had lifted his head.

"Gabriel, I am so grateful to you, please don't ever assume I'm not, however… I do not enjoy watching you work yourself into the ground for me. I believe maybe I should drop…" Gabriel's fist had slammed down on the table.

"No!" Castiel had looked down again.

"Gabriel…" He had shaken his head, then walked over to the coat closet, grabbing his jacket form the hook.

"I said no, Castiel. End of… end of discussion." Then he had grabbed the keys to their car from the fishbowl on the coffee table, and tromped out. Castiel replayed the events of the day in his mind as he walked through the wind. Gabriel hadn't been back since then, and since he had the only car keys, and henceforth, the only car, it appeared Castiel needed to take the subway to work. He was never fond of Subways. He believed they were sweaty, and occasionally he smelled something that he rather would not have, but for the most part, he would just grin and bear it, holding onto one of the germ-infested poles.

The subway itself was several blocks from Castiel's apartment, so for the time being, he enjoyed his little walk, allowing himself to think. He was on his way the library, his favorite of his two jobs. He got to write poetry on his free time (one of his displayed poems had fallen the other day from the board, and he couldn't find it anywhere) and read too. It was better than the alternative that was his job bagging groceries at the supermarket. It wasn't fun at all, but it paid the bills… but apparently not tuition.

Castiel sighed, looking up at the trees lining the city streets. They were red and gold and resembled small fires, and when the breeze blew, occasionally some would get ruffled enough to fall off, twirling down until they met the pavement. Castiel loved the fall. He felt as if every breath he took was clean and crisp, and every thing was becoming new. He also loved the colors… they inspired him to write. He mostly wrote poetry, occasionally dabbling in short stories. Writing was what he loved to do more than anything, but it was actually not what he was majoring in. He was majoring in current events, or World Studies. He wanted to be a reporter, of sorts. He wanted to write for newspapers… he wanted to inform people. He sighed again.

"That is… if I can stay in school long enough to get a degree." He muttered softly to himself, one of his feet kicking out, gently stirring a small pile of leaves that had accumulated in front of him.

It really was an issue for him. After all that had happened, Gabriel had already done so much… had stuck by him to such an extent… he felt like a rotten person by having Gabriel do more for him than he already was. But Gabriel insisted. They were lucky that they still had some of Mom's life insurance, and Luke still sent occasional money to pay for Anna's medical bills, or they didn't know where they would be right now.

It made Castiel sad, to think of his sister like that. Growing up she had always been so strong, and confident. With her fiery red hair and a temper to match, always bringing humor into a situation, and defending Castiel from the other boy's teasing. Now… she barely left the bed in the hospital. She was under constant watch, and the spunky exuberance she'd admitted before was drained away. The will to live was lost, to the point where she didn't even trust herself to be alone. Castiel would never forget the day he found her; he'd been the one. To walk into the bathroom, and see her in a warm tub, fully clothed. Her wrists had been slit open; a razor still clutched in her hand, and blood was staining the water red, seeping into everything around her. Castiel had screamed and dropped to his knees, trying to pull her from the tub. Gabriel had run up, called 911, and pulled a sobbing Castiel away, allowing paramedics to get through. Castiel hadn't been the same after that. He was quieter. He smiled less. He loved less; not his brother and sister of course. He found it difficult to trust and befriend others around him, and had not been in any kind of relationship since that day. It was too hard.

"Hey Jude… don't make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better…" He sang softly under his breath when he finally reached the subway, jogging down the stairs one at a time. He waded through the crowds of people, finally getting to the toll collector. Not stopping his brisk walk, he looked down, reaching into his pocket to find his Metro-Card. Seeing as his hands were filled with books and papers from school, (he was hoping he may get some homework done a the library) this was easier said than done. He got so involved in looking, the he didn't realize he was walking directly into a person, until his books went flying from his hands, and he settled on the ground, a warm weight underneath him. He had the wind knocked out of him, and took a few gasping breaths before stuttering out,

"I am so sorry!"

***Destiel***Destiel***Destiel***

Dean was awoken suddenly by a clapping bang on the TV. After a second he realized that Doctor's Sexy's evil twin had shot his illegitimate half-brother Ron Vanderbelt. He blinked several times, setting down his beer bottle on the side table, (which miraculously hadn't fallen from his fingers) and pinched the bridge oh his nose, before rubbing his eyes. He exhaled while stretching his arms out, and pinching his eyes together, before settling back into the couch and opening them. He was in a relaxed state for several moments before his forest green eyes settled lazily on the clock, then widened.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, looking at the time. He had fifteen fucking minutes to get to work. He hopped up, stripping his t-shirt and throwing it on the floor, then running to his room. He grabbed a green t-shirt from the floor, and sniffed it, determining it clean. After throwing it on, he ran back out, and slipped into his shoes and his leather jacket, grabbing his keys and locking the door behind him. H sprinted down the stairs two at a time.

When he finally walked outside into the chilly morning, he glanced down at his watch again, seeing about ten minutes until he had to be at work. He gave his car a longing glance, but realized that with traffic at this time of the day, the only way he'd get to work on time was riding the subway, which he fucking hated. It was only a block form his building, so convenient, but still, it meant leaving his baby behind. Also, the fucking subway was disgusting. It smelled and was full of bacteria… and if Sam ever heard him thinking like this he'd never hear the end of it.

So, with another sigh he pocketed his keys, and cut his losses, heading toward the subway. The air was cold on that particular day, but it was all worth it, because autumn was Dean's favorite season. As mentioned before, still life was not Dean's forte, but he often got inspired to paint by the many shades and colors of the fall.

"Shit." He whispered to himself as a breeze blew by, and he tugged his leather jacket closed, briefly slipping his hands out of the pockets, and grabbing the cold metal zipper, closing it. His hands returned to his pockets swiftly. His mind wandered a bit on the short walk to the subway.

He was really fucking screwed. Not only had he lied to his parents about seeing someone, he had to get married. Dean was never really the relationship type. After his parents died, he moved around from school to school, and from home to home so often, he'd developed a motto, love 'em and leave 'em. And for the most part it worked. If you didn't get emotionally attached, there was no pain when you left, no tears. He only had to worry about caring for Sammy. Of course, he had never really engaged in sexual activities before he was adopted, (he was smooth sure, but, _twelve? _Come on!) but the friendship worked in the same way. He guessed he'd developed that habit, and when it finally came to girls, it just stuck with him.

There had been one girl, Lisa, who he thought he was in love with, but she'd lied to him in the worst way. As in, gotten pregnant while she was dating him, from his best friend at the time. Then lied and told him the kid was his, and eventually the lies built up, and she left him. Dean had never really gotten over that one, and hadn't tried relationships again much after that. There had been one guy a few years later during college, named Victor. They hadn't really worked out. They were just to similar, and he had some anger issues, and they didn't go together. They'd ended it on good terms however and still occasionally talked. He'd become a cop, and met a nice guy named Garth. Dean had been shocked at the small nerdy boy, Dean's total opposite in every way, but they were happy together, and Dean was happy for them. He'd also dated one of his best friends, Jo for a while. Her parents were friends with his adoptive parents, and they'd dated for the press for a while. However, it was kind of borderline incestual, and they decided they were much better off as close friends. She was still one of his best friends. Last he heard she was dating a guy named Ash. Dean had met him once. He listened to mullet-rock, and had hair to match. He was a cool dude.

Now, Dean didn't mind so much lying to the press, he might even get over lying to his parents, but Sammy, he told Sammy everything. The thought of lying to Sammy made his stomach drop. As soon as this got back to Sam, he would wonder why Dean hadn't told him about this supposedly serious relationship. He wasn't sure of what the hell to do anymore. Where he was going to find someone willing to pretend to be in a relationship with him… where he could start a relationship with someone who didn't mind getting married after a week. It didn't matter.

He reached the subway, jogging down the stairs, and going towards the tolls. 'Maybe I can get someone to pretend to be my… whatever…. for just a while, and then I can fake a nasty break-up… hold off Margie for a while…' He mused to himself, while searching his pockets for his Metro-Card so he could pass the tolls. The whole thing was deceitful and made Dean's toes curl… but he saw no other option. He finally found the worn-at-the-edges, sunflower yellow card. He pulled it out and studied it, trying to figure out if he still had money left on it. His eyes were squinting while he sidestepped people, when suddenly, something barreled into him.

He was knocked backward, onto the floor, card slipping from his fingers. The wind was knocked out of him as his back met the hard concrete, and a light, warm weight settled on top of him. His head knocked the ground and ached dully. There was silence for several moments before he released a low groan, his vision blurring, as he finally registered the weight on top of him was a person. He was finally regaining the ability to see, when suddenly, a deep, gravelly, and… _sexy_ voice sounded close to his face.

"I am so sorry!" Dean finally opened his eyes all the way, looked up, and felt the wind knocked out of him again. Staring down onto his face was the bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. They were deep pools of crystal-ocean, with flecks of aquamarine dancing around the large onyx pupil, and Dean was drowning. They were wide and shining with concern, dark thick lashed framing them, the stare still intent. And suddenly, the words were coming up, like word vomit, and they were out before he could stop them.

"Marry me."

* * *

*Gasps* What will Castiel say? What is Dean thinking? Why the fuck doesn't anyone ever look where they are walking?

I really hope you'll review, and that wasn't too terrible! So... I love you and thanks for reading! Another Chapter will be here soon!

Love and Kisses,

ImpalaPorn


	3. The Unconventionality

**Chapter 3: The Unconventionality**

Castiel Novak had been shocked into silence that pressed down on the two men lying on the subway floor as busy pedestrians ignored them. Castiel barely had time to consider the fact he was probably crushing the man. He didn't have time to register his impossibly green eyes or lightly freckled face before he was speaking, in a deep, smooth voice.

"Marry me." And Castiel was… confused? Shocked? He didn't really know what the proper word was as the man who he had just barreled into asked it as casually as something like, 'Are you okay?' And Castiel didn't know how to react. So, he did the first thing that came to his mind. He lifted himself up, and punched the guy in the face. Not particularly hard, but hard enough to make him grunt as grab his jaw, as Castiel scrambled, off him, gathering his books. And he averted his gaze as the man sat up, rubbing his stubbled jaw. Castiel was not sure of the etiquette in this situation, and for now chose to believe this was strange dream. Then, as he gathered the books from the dirty concrete, with no help from those walking around them, the man's voice sounded again.

"You… punched me." He said somewhat slowly and in a shocked tone, as if the situation was just as confusing to him as it was to the dazed, red, Castiel, who did not trust himself to speak right now, as the man stood up slowly. Castiel had picked up the last of his books, and was keeping his eyes focused on the ground, hugging them tightly. And suddenly, the man's words registered, and he became slightly angry.

"Of… of course!" He said flustered. "You… you just said…" And Castiel finally dared to look up at the man properly for the first time. He was tall, taller than Castiel with a bulkier frame. He had short, blonde hair and green eyes, a strong jaw, and tan freckled skin. Castiel's first impression was… very handsome. His second impression was… crazy. Crazy man, who asked strangers in the subway to marry him. Even if he didn't look crazy, ad was right now knitting his brows, and opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"I… I…" And Castiel couldn't really handle the situation anymore, and he turned on his heel, turning his back on the man, and stepping onto the subway after scanning his card through the tolls, and giving one last confused glance over his shoulder, while his heart drummed uncontrollably. Finally, as the doors closed, and he sank into a free seat, setting his books on his lap, he whispered to himself.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

Dean stood limply in the subway terminal, not really even registering that it was pulling away, and Bobby was definitely going to slaughter him for being late to work. He just stood there, not realizing occasional people bumping his shoulders, briskly walking bye him, or the few, 'Hey! Watch it!'s thrown his way. He just stood there numbly, his arms limply hanging at his side. He couldn't even muster enough emotion to manage being angry at the guy for his hasty exit. How could he? The only thing he could possibly manage thinking was, 'What the hell? What the holy fuck is wrong with me?'

He didn't know what had come onto him. The idea had crept into his mind slowly, and before he could even evaluate it, it had come out of his mouth. He didn't do it on purpose; he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't even know what'd come over him asking a guy he'd never met! Why the hell did he think that was even in the same universe as a good idea?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dean, you are so stupid." He mumbled to himself. Now he felt like some Subway weirdo… and by the look in the guy's eyes, he'd thought so too. Speaking of those eyes… Dean shook his head. But no matter what, he could not clear his head of the blue orbs, which ran through his mind over and over. And Dean realized that he didn't even know what the guy looked like. The only thing he'd seen were those eyes… nothing else. And as Dean stood there, receiving several very annoyed looks, he finally bent down to pick up his Metro-Card.

In the few short moments that had passed, Dean decided to pretend this had never happened. It was a strange, unusual fluke, and Dean had done something beyond the realm of strange, and he would pretend blue eyes didn't exist, and he would go back to trying to solve his problem. When his fingers finally grasped his card, his eyes drifted to the side, locking onto something black. Dean moved toward it, picking it up. It was a leather wallet, one of those kinds that folded up, with a slot for credit cards and drivers' licenses. Dean quirked an eyebrow and straightened up, eyeing the thing, before flipping it open, and being pierced by a picture of shocking blue eyes. Dean was momentarily paralyzed before he shook himself out of it, and realized, 'Oh shit, this is, _the guy's _wallet!' Finally, he inspected the rest of the picture, finding that this man was almost as beautiful as his eyes. Tousled midnight hair, sticking up at odd angles, and full pink chapped lips. Smooth skin and a straight nose, and light stubble. The expression on his face was straight and emotionless. Well, this confirmed it _was_ a guy and not a chick with a really deep, sexy, and rumbly voice.

Dean studied it for several more moments before scanning over the rest of the license. Male, twenty-two years old, named Castiel Novak. 'Huh,' Dean thought, 'weird name…' He folded up the wallet, and slipped it into his back pocket. Then, a startling moment of clarity hit him.

He'd have to return this. He'd have to see the guy… Castiel… again. "Well…" Dean said, looking at the empty rail where the subway had been moments before. "Fuck."

* * *

Castiel rode on the subway in silence. His thoughts were racing one thousand miles a minute, and he needed to calm them, before his head exploded. On the last stop an old lady had gotten on the bus, and he'd quickly surrendered his seat to her, and was now gripping to subway pole with one hand, books tucked under the other arm. And Castiel barely noticed that they reached his stop through his busy thoughts. He filed out of the subway, (this time looking carefully so he did not bump into people) preparing to walk the block to the library. And although he tried to be aware of his surroundings, he was in a stupor.

But… what was to be expected of him after being asked that by a complete, handsome… stranger? It was like a really bad Disney movie fairytale… or a really creepy episode of Murder Mysteries… "Where are they now?." He couldn't decide which. He decided the second one was probably more plausible. The sad thing was, the creep probably got some poor old girls to fall for it… maybe he should call the police…. But he couldn't exactly report the guy for asking Castiel to marry him, could he? Castiel sighed heavily and sunk his face into his red scarf, which hid under the collar of his trench coat, as he extended an arm out and pushed open the library's glass door. He looked up at the bulletin board as he entered letting loose another sigh when he realized the poem still wasn't there. He turned his head to face Mrs. Rosen, the librarian who was currently working the shift. He turned the corner of his mouth up in a small half smile, his cheeks rosy with the cold. She offered him a large one in return, eyes wrinkling and lips parting. Castiel nodded and walked to the book cart, pushing it to the section where they needed to be shelved.

Mrs. Rosen was nice… a little weird. Her name was Becky, and that's what he called her, she was obsessed with this book series by this Professor Carver Edlund, about these two sisters Jenny and someone… or brothers… or something. Anyway, she was pretty weird and practically lived and breathed that book, and last he'd heard, she was actually dating the guy who wrote them (not like she didn't tell him, she chatted constantly about everything and anything… but her constant chatter was nice for quiet Castiel.) 'Lucky break for her,' is what Castiel had always thought.

Not that Castiel was bitter… he thought as he shelved 'Great Expectations'. It was not his fault that his entire love life had summed up to one boyfriend, two crushes, and now… a subway stranger asking for his hand. Castiel sighed again and shelved 'Grapes of Wrath.' He looked down and saw the rest of the books were children's books. So with a heaving sigh, he pushed the cart forward, wheeling it to the colorfully painted children's section.

His eyes scanned over the rows and rows of spines as he slowly made his way to his destination. He loved books, and had been reading for longer than he could remember. His life had always been… dull… un-exciting…. except for the times when it was miserable. So he'd escaped through books. He'd escaped from his sister's illness and his father's wrath. He'd escaped from the taunting at school, and everything else. He'd found solace between bound pages, a world that was better, more interesting, and happier than his own. Sometimes the world was worse. That was okay. It was a different kind of pain than his. Someone else's sadness to focus on. Someone else to feel sorry for. Sad books were probably what saved him. It got to a point in school where the teasing… was unbearable. The taunting was horrible, and when a popular boy had pretended to be interested in him for no reason other than to humiliate him, he couldn't take it.

He'd been the first to cut himself. Not Anna. It was deep and long and at the time, it made him feel free. It lessened the emotional pain, gave him something physical, something else to concentrate on. The scars still wrapped around his wrists, little devils grabbing onto him. But that is all they were anymore. Scars. He stopped for the most part when he read sad books. They were another pain to concentrate on… better than his physical pain. Much better than his emotional pain. It was the best kind of pain he'd even felt, pain that did not belong to him.

Teachers had been concerned for a while in his depressing taste in literature, but he did not expect them to understand that the books were not hurting him at all; they were helping them. So he ignored the stares and the names… and in rare occasions when it became too much, he would sometimes find solace in that jagged release, let himself breathe through new cuts. But that stopped when he found Anna. When he walked in on her in that bathtub, any desire he'd felt to hurt himself… any urge he had disappeared. When he saw his sister's pale face, trying to gasp out his name with her pasty lips… he shuddered. He realized how horrible it really was… a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The scars ashamed him… they really did… but in a way, they helped him understand Anna. He talked to her, was there for her, tried to give her will to live.

'It's good I don't feel an urge to do that anymore…" He mused as he shelved 'The Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon.' 'Gabriel would not be able to handle it.' Castiel turned back to the white-painted metal cart, his sweater-clad arm (he's discarded his trench-coat in the coat room) reaching for 'Babar the Elephant goes to the Zoo.'

"An elephant going to the zoo? Doesn't that seem a bit strange?" Castiel nearly dropped the book at the voice. People did not usually approach him, let alone while he was working. However, he quickly composed himself, and looked up to see a man… and then… kept looking up to find his face. The man was ridiculously tall, with long limbs and large hands… a sasquatch. Castiel mused as he finally saw the man's kind hazel eyes… and shaggy brown hair. 'He needs a haircut,' flitted through Castiel's mind before he smiled.

"Can I help you?" He asked. The man smiled in return, his upturned nose giving a small twitch with the movement. Despite the man's huge stature, he looked young, definitely no older than Castiel.

"Yeah actually." He said, glancing around the painfully colored room. "I'm herein town to surprise my brother… Dean." Castiel stepped away from the book cart and the crowded aisle, gesturing for the giant man to follow him. "I was on the phone with him this morning…" The man said, following Castiel into the open area of the library. "The jerk had no idea that I was here." He gave a small smile, and Castiel immediately liked him. He was kind and smart looking, although definitely not the type Castiel would be sexually attracted to…

'Like the man in the subway…' Castiel quickly halted that train of thought and forced a smile tilting his head back to see the man's face again. "That's nice… but uhm… what do you need?" The man looked embarrassed, shaking his head.

"Sorry, sometimes a share too much. Dean always says that." Castiel raised his eyebrows, as the large man continued to share anyway." So, my wife and I are both really into books, and Dean… well… Dean doesn't read. It's not like he isn't smart… because he is! He's an artist and everything!" Castiel couldn't help his warm smile.

"You sound very proud of him." Sam laughed.

"Yeah, he's really talented. Anyway, he's not much of a reader, but I was wondering if you could maybe help me find a book for him, as a present… something not mushy… maybe with some violence or like… deep rooted messages?" Castiel stared at the man (a habit of his) for several moments, before slowly nodding.

"Yes… I think I may be able to help you." The Giant's face split into a huge smile.

"That's awesome…" He trailed off.

"Castiel. My name is Castiel." Sam wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Castiel? Well, that's a cool name… very mythology based. An angel, right?" Castiel nodded in slight disbelief.

"Most people do not know that…" Sam smiled looked away.

"Yeah well, when we were little our mom used to tell my older brothers a lot of stuff about angels… I don't remember but, when we were growing up, he told me, so…" The man looked back. "I'm Sam." He extended his hand, and Castiel reached forward, and gripped it lightly, and Sam violently shook. Although Castiel liked this man, he could not help agreeing with Sam's brother. Sam did share too much.

"Anyway, Sam… your book?" Sam dropped Castiel's hand and nodded.

"Oh, yeah… the book, you got anything?" Castiel walked away, waving with his hand at Sam, in a 'come with me' motion. Castiel immediately begun scanning over shelves, long fingers barely brushing spines of books as he read each title briefly, memories from the books he'd read flashing through his brain. Finally, he found it. One finger deftly separated from the hand, reaching up and pulling to top of the book out, allowing it to fall forward. He grabbed the now jutting-forwards hardcover with his hands and yanked it out, feeling the other books slide against it, and finally surrender. He straightened up and handed the book to Sam.

"Here." He said quickly. Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he read the title.

"The Unconventionality?" Castiel nodded.

"I believe your brother will enjoy it. It does have romance involved, but violence as well, and the underlying message is quite fascinating. It is one of my personal favorites… it is a long book… take as long as you need with it… I will see you are not fined when it is returned." Sam smiled, feeling the book's cover.

"Thanks Castiel, really." Castiel blushed and smiled, waving a hand.

"It is not an issue, truly, now come over here and I will check the books out for you." Sam followed and Castiel took 'The Unconventionality" and scanned it, handing over to Sam. He waved and walked towards the door, book in hand.

"Thanks again." And with that he pushed the door, disappearing into the cold. Castiel smiled a bit and bent over, picking up some of the books from the return basket. Suddenly, a voice sounded behind him, causing him to drop the books and straighten up, banging his head on the shelf above him.

"Who was that?" Castiel slowly stood, rubbing his head, and sent a subtle glare to a wide-eyes Becky.

"That was a man looking for a book for his brother… his name was Sam." Becky raised an eyebrow.

"He was hot." Castiel sighed, leaning to pick up the books.

"What about Chuck?" Becky sighed.

"Chuck is the yin to my proud yang. That does not mean a girl is not allowed to look… and speaking of hot guys, are you free next Saturday? Because I kind of want to set you up with my friend Vlad!" Castiel just rolled his eyes.

* * *

Dean Winchester was not happy with his life at the moment. _The guy's_ wallet was burning a hole in his back pocket, his life was a lie, Bobby had given him shit for being late, and the stupid, goddamn car he was working on would not fucking start.

"Fucking shit!" He yelled again from under the car, dropping his hands from what he was working on, and to his side, looking for the wrench he needed. The roller he was on kept steadily drifting from under the car, and he had to anchor his legs solidly on the concrete to keep himself in place. It was not his fault Bobby wouldn't buy one with a goddamn stopper. Speaking of Bobby, his voice echoed through the garage at that moment.

"Shut it you 'idgit! Do you ever consider there might be customers in the shop?"

"No!" Dean bit back sharply. Bobby cursed. Dean sighed in exasperation, dropping the wrench. Then a third voice joined the conversation.

"Insulting the boss Dean?" This voice was unusually close and startled Dean, making him sit up and bang his head on the car's undercarriage.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled at the ringing pain. Bobby yelled at him again. Dean just cursed again, quieter, before letting his legs go, and using his arms to push himself out from under the car. He looked up to the smiling, bitchy face of his younger brother standing over him.

"You are such a bitch." Dean said, rubbing his head, before Sam reached down, helping him up.

"I love you too bug brother." Dean just smirked.

"What the hell is your giant ass doing here? You're supposed to be in California or some shit with your lovely wife." The sentence was said sarcastically, with a smile on his face… but then… reality sunk into Dean. What was Sam doing here? What the fuck was Sam doing here? In the middle of his stupid fucking crisis, and lie… while Dean was supposed to be finding a lover he didn't have? What would he tell Sam? Had his parents seen Sam yet? He tried to keep his face neutral… but inside, he felt like freaking out.

Sam just smiled, the big loon. "I came to give you a surprise visit, mom and dad suggested it, Jess is back at the house, we're staying there." Dean registered this bit by bit, mentally checking that he was okay.

"So uhm…" Dean tried for nonchalant. "Have you… spoken to mom and dad yet? Like, anything important?" Sam looked confused.

"Uhh, no… I came right to see you, why?" Dean answered a bit too quickly.

"No reason." And then a wave of nausea washed over Dean. Sammy was his little brother, the one thing he'd loved unconditionally for his whole life. And lying to him made him want to go home and drink. And sleep. And bury himself in guilt. He risked a glance at Sam, who looked confused, but seemed content to let it go.

"Whatever jerk."

"Bitch." Was Dean's automatic response, and this small bit of normalcy eased his nerves somewhat. Sam grimaced.

"Well then, grease monkey…" A glance downwards showed that Dean was indeed covered in grease. "I guess you don't want my present?" Dean smirked at his brother.

"Well, is it dumb?" Sam scoffed and reached into his bag, pulling out a thick, hardcover book.

"Not according to the library guy, he recommended I bring it for you to read." Dean took the book, looking at the cover.

"The Unconventionality?" Dean looked up teasingly at his brother. "You nerd." Sam grimaced at him.

"You're welcome." Dean truly smiled for the first time all morning, despite the crappy way everything was going today, he couldn't deny that his brother's presence was cheering him up. And the fact that he brought him a book was very… Sammy. And Dean really didn't mind a bit. Though he would not express such girly sentiments.

"Thanks Sammy." Is what he did say, taking the book (careful not to get car grease on it) and putting it in the inside pocket of his bag, backpack thing. Sam smiled.

"So Dean, how is everything going?" Sam asked, taking a seat on a stool, bringing him just below Dean's eye level. Dean had to bite back a laugh.

"To be honest Sammy, not so well." Sam gave him a look.

"Yeah, why's that?" And he could do it. Dean could tell Sam everything… or he could start now… he was already on a lying streak. He settled for the middle. He was tempted to say, 'you'll find out soon enough.' What came out was,

"Work troubles, I guess. I'm kind of having a slow down with the painting too… nothing really to inspire me… wow I sound gay." Sam gave him a look that plainly said, 'well…' "Shutup." Dean said, ignoring Sam's smirk. He may be into guys, but he was not gay, gay. No musicals. No pink. Now he felt like a stereotypical asshole. Sam just kept smirking, and Dean looked at his brother, and felt himself smile. At least something was going okay…

* * *

"Castiel! We just got some new magazines in! Will you organize them?" Castiel looked up from his book to Becky's pleading face.

"Why can't you?" Becky sighed.

"I wish I could. I have a field trip of kindergarteners. They are coming for story reading today, and I have to clean the kid's section… wanna trade jobs?" Castiel quickly shook his head.

"No thank you." And with that Castiel got up and walked over to Becky, taking the box form her grasp. It was heavier than Castiel thought, and his knees bent slightly as he carried it to the magazine rack, then set it down. Afterwards he walked back to the desks, and grabbed the labeller and cataloger for magazines. Castiel had to stick a bar code, and an author, and ID number on them with these little automatic labelers before putting them away in alphabetical order. It was a boring chore. He tore the packing tape away from the box after sitting down cross-legged. The tape came off in one clean rip with a loud sound; bits of brown fuzz-like stuff sticking to the tape. He balled it up and put it aside, flipping the box open, and reaching in.

He sat there for about ten minutes, putting magazines away, until on his fourteenth magazine, a flash of green caught his eye. He quickly flashed his eyes down and studied it more closely, and there he was.

He was met with an image of the man from the subway, smiling and talking to another person… it was a candid shot, the man did not know he was being photographed.

Castiel stared for several more moments, at the kind green eyes, and the short brown hair, with scattered blond highlights. He took in the sparse spatter of freckles, before his eyes moved up to the title. 'A Solitude Lifestyle' and Castiel paused for several moments, before a slow smile spread over his face. "Well, what do you know?" At least he wasn't a murderer…

* * *

Dean was in the Impala, looking down at the wallet in his hand. His heart was pounding out of his chest… and his foot was on the gas petal, on the verge of pressing. He had one decision to make. He had to give the guy back his wallet! It was just… the right thing to do!

He stared at the address on the driver's license for what seemed like forever, the soft playing Motorhead spilling from the Impala's radio, and making the time seem more thick, like molasses spilling over him, drowning him. He stared at the piercing blue eyes… and thought of his predicament. His foot pressed down a bit more… and then his mind drifted back to the subway incident, and the pressure lessened. Finally he scoffed, and said aloud,

"Jesus man, when did you become such a pussy? Dude needs his wallet back!" And with that he drove away, intent on finding that apartment.

* * *

Castiel entered his apartment and sighed, dropping his coat on the floor, and letting it pool into a ball. "Hello? Gabriel?" He called out. The silence rang in his ears and Castiel sighed, toeing off his shoes and entering the apartment. He turned around and locked the deadbolt, and in three large strides, settled into his couch. He exhaled loudly allowed his body to melt into the worn fabric. His eyes drifted closed.

He'd had a hard day. First with the subway guy, and then with the little kid's party and the missing poem. Clean up after the party had been a bitch. Then he's left late, and he'd not wanted to take the subway again after the incident. His mistake… the walk home was awful and cold. And to top it off, he still didn't know what to do about his student loans, and Gabriel was still missing. Castiel felt as if he could sleep for one hundred years.

He breathed in and out, and when he finally began to relax, numbness creeping into his arms and legs, and sleep crowding his mind, a knock sounded at the door. Castiel let out a long groan as feeling came back into his body. His annoyance was replaced with relief when he realized it must be Gabriel. He slowly dragged himself up, rubbing his face, and dragging a hand, further messing his hair.

He stood up fully, and became annoyed as he walked to the door, and realized Gabriel must've lost his key. Castiel scowled and reached the door, twisting the gold metal knob and yanking the door open. "Gabriel, I swear if you lost another key-"

Castiel froze. Staring at him were deep green eyes. Standing in front of him was the man from the subway. Silence hung in the air for several moments until finally, the man spoke.

"Hey."

* * *

So, like it? Hate it? Review it? I like the latter of the options, but you know, I'm just a struggling author/supernaturalist/mishaminion... so...

Anyway, if you want more... yay!

Love,

ImpalaPorn


	4. My Fake Fiancé

Okay, here is another update, to make up for how long the last one took... sorry... this one is a bit short... but it just worked out that way I guess. That you so much for your positive responses on 'Piano Boy'! Your reviews made me happy! Anyway, the 'Opposite Ends' sequel should be out soon, so be sure to check that out! Anway, without further dilly-dallying...

* * *

**My Fake Fiancé**

"Hey." Said Dean, looking up to the face of the dark haired, slack jawed man at the door. 'Hey?' Dean chastised himself. 'You proposed to the guy today and all you can say is _hi?_' Truthfully, Dean did not blame him for his silence. If he was put in the same situation, he would truly be speechless. However, he was Dean Smith, Dean Winchester, Dean whatever he was calling himself… and he was going to handle this situation… and try his best to get something from it… "Look, I… uh…" He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out the small wallet, holding it up as if it was an answer to… everything. "You uhm… when we bumped into each other in the subway this morning… you… dropped this." He held it out.

Castiel made no move to reach for it. He simply stood there, looking shell-shocked. Now Dean was a little bit annoyed… he was never patient. "Hey, you there? I brought you your damn wallet." Now Castiel knitted his brows, and shook his head, seeming to come back to life. His blue eyes were confused and a slightly insulted expression settled over his face.

"Excuse me?" And that voice did not make Dean shiver, nope. Dean simply sighed and repeated again.

"Are you deaf? Your wallet." Now Castiel looks really insulted. He looked down, and patted his pocket, eyes widening when he realized it was missing. In a concise movement, he reached out a grabbed it, surprising Dean. Dean's eyes widened and he looked up again to Castiel, who now looked bothered, even slightly angry.

"Well excuse me." He said in a sleepy, gravel deep voice. "But I'm not the one who knocked down a stranger, _proposed to him_, and then showed up at his front door!" Dean pushed down his surprise at the sudden burst of emotion from the stoic looking man. Then Dean used his automated response. Anger.

"Well sorry for doing you a favor! I could have just left the fucking thing on the ground!" And Dean barely registered the new flash of anger across Castiel's face before the wooden door of 19A was being slammed in his face. And a flash of panic seized Dean. He didn't know why… other than the fact that Castiel could be useful. So, in a last ditch effort, his foot shot forward, hamming between the door and its frame. Castiel's mouth fell open again when the door, instead of closing, bounced open again, until he looked down, and saw Dean's dusty work boot jammed in the doorway. Then he looked angry again.

"Look, you can imagine this whole situation is very confusing for me. I'm not quite sure what is going on… but I am inclined to call the police on you… because… I've entertained the notion you are a serial killer." Now it was Dean's turn to be speechless… but not for long.

"I am not… a serial… look… I'm-" Castiel cut him off.

"You are Dean Smith." Dean drew his eyebrows together. "I saw you in a magazine today at work… I was… surprised." Dean was silent… and the quiet fell over them like a ringing blanket. Finally, after what seemed like years of staring at his shoe, Dean said slowly…

"Let me… explain myself… please?" The words sounded bitter, even to him. Castiel hesitated.

"You realize why I may have some serious reservations about letting you into this apartment…" Dean sighed. He couldn't really complain.

"I promise I am not psycho… or a stalker… I was just returning this… and this morning… I… let me explain, please?" Castiel stayed quiet for several more moments before sighing, and stepping back, gesturing inside of the apartment. "Thank you." Dean said with a sarcastic flourish, and Castiel looked at him like he had something bitter in his mouth. Dean stepped in and looked around briefly. It was a small place.

There were boxes of sugary cereal in the kitchen, and on the table, piles and piles of open college textbooks. He continued to look. The couch was worn, and old, and the TV looked second hand… in fact… everything in this apartment made Castiel- or whatever- look _way_ too poor to be attending the amount of college though books entailed. What? Dean had always been good at deduction… he thought of himself as a sexier, trench-coatless Sherlock Holmes… Dean figured as an afterthought, that maybe this guy just didn't have expensive taste. Then, he realized that he was just staring around this dude's apartment after pretty mush strolling in. And the proposal of this morning left him sounding like a crazy man. So, he turned around… and was shocked by a pair of electric blue eyes… less than a foot from his.

"Woah! Jesus dude, didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space?" Dean asked, putting up two hands. The man quirked his eyebrow and took a step back.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to propose to strangers in the subway?" Dean opened his mouth then found his retort lost, and closed it again. He hoped he didn't look too much like a goldfish, finally, he gathered some semblance of words he hoped didn't make his sound too psychotic.

"Okay, so I should probably start by explaining that whole thing." Castiel nodded, sending Dean a look that said, 'yes, that would be best,' and heavily laced with sarcasm. Dean scowled. "When, I saw you in the subway, I was well… thinking… and it just sort of… popped out." Dean thought it was a good choice of words.

"Popped out?" But apparently, Castiel, who asked incredulously, didn't. Dean tried again to gather his thoughts, which were jumping a mile a minute around in his head. How the fuck did he get here? He was a normal kid, then he was an orphan, then a perfectly happy, single ladies man painter, now, he was in some impatient looking, blue-eyes man's apartment trying to explain his impromptu marriage proposal. Dean could think of a hundred places he'd rather be… and he realized, as blue-eyes tapped his foot that his fucking life sucked. Oh well, better just go for it, all or nothing.

"I need to get married." And at that point, Dean thought that if Castiel's eyebrows raised any higher, they'd come off his head. There was a pregnant pause.

"So… you asked a stranger in the subway?" Dean exhaled, getting annoyed.

"Look man, I was thinking about it, and I've always been impulsive, and at the time I thought it was a good idea, fuck… at the time I wasn't really thinking but… it slipped out, okay?" Dean finally met Castiel's gaze properly for the first time. It was confused, and annoyed, yet strangely… magnetic. And Dean was trying to think of how the hell to explain himself, and the only remotely accurate words he could think of to describe the situation were, 'fuck my fucking life.'

"Do you mind me asking…" Castiel shifted, and looked away. "Why… exactly… you needed to be married so urgently that you couldn't of… asked someone you knew?" Dean could see the confusion on the poor guy's face, trying to make sense of this weird conversation he was having with, in the guy's mind, a lunatic from the subway station. Dean exhaled again, and rubbed his nose.

"You said… you saw me on a magazine at work?" Castiel's red flush that swept over his face was answer enough for Dean. "I am guessing, that the title of that magazine might have given you… a little hint, Dr. Watson?" Castiel's face scrunched.

"I do not understand that reference." Dean had to stop a face-palm from occurring. Finally, Dean had a moment of 'fuck it.'

"The reference isn't important. The deal is, my dad is kind of an important dude, and I have a lot of pressure on me right now to… do certain things he expects of me. I sort of owe him, and don't want to make him look bad." And then… the thought crept into his mind again, permeating his thoughts. 'Use him, use him.' It said. 'You've already gotten this far, use him.' Castiel didn't seem to be saying anything else, so Dean cleared his throat and kept talking. "And… I'm prepared to offer you a deal." Castiel's head tilted at this, and Dean tried to surpass the inner voice telling him that he was crazy, and he should just go confess to his dad. "I… don't really have time to get married… I mean… not like, in love married. But… I have time to… fake it." Dean turned away, looking out the window, and kept talking.

"I need someone to pretend to marry me… only for like… long enough to make it real. Or, maybe even just pretend to be engaged. We'd call it a long engagement, then get into a fight or something, it break it off…" He turned to face Castiel. "But I need someone to make it look real…" Castiel was silent, as was Dean.

The clock ticked on the wall, each second echoing loudly in Dean's ears as Castiel didn't move an inch, and Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, fidgeting under the gaze. Finally, after what seemed like millennia, Dean spoke again.

"Look, I know you're a dude and all, and I don't even know if you're like, into dudes or whatever, but it doesn't matter. You just so happen to be the first person to know the truth, and… I'll pay you." Castiel shifted his eyes, and then slowly spoke, it his gravel voice.

"So… let me get this straight… you want to… pay me… a man you just met this morning… to pretend to be fake engaged with you, so the media thinks you're in a relationship?" This entire situation was too weird. Dean just nodded. Castiel spoke again. "You're crazy. I knew it." Dean narrowed his eyes.

"I am not crazy! I'm trying to find a way out of his fucking situation! I don't want to just…" He was going to say 'marry someone off the street' and then remembered that that was pretty much exactly what Castiel was. Someone off the street. So he went with the other option. "My dad wants me to marry some crazy chick that's his friend's kid." A slow smirk spread over Castiel's face.

"So…. this is about avoiding the undesirable girl then?" Dean could feel his face go red, and wanted to return the dude's punch from this morning. "Why… would I… who is feeling very freaked out right now, by the way… want to be part of your… situation in any way?" Dean was just getting tired of this now.

"Like I said, I'll pay you." Castiel remained silent. "Come on dude, there has to be something you want, money… a car…" His eyes drifted around the room again, finally settling on the books. His mind lit up, and suddenly, he had a fucking idea. He smiled slowly, turning back to Castiel. "Your student loans!" Castiel turned to face him with that, wide eyed. Dean just smirked and gestured to the books. "Your tuition, or student loans or whatever. I'll pay them off… tell my dad I'm helping you, he won't mind it. I swear." Castiel was silent still. He looked at Dean, and then the books, and then slowly seemed to slip into thought. His eyes glazed over and he chewed on his lip, staying silent and letting the ticking clock take over Dean's senses again. Finally Dean said, "Hello, you there?" And Castiel snapped back into awareness.

"If I pretend to be in a relationship with you for the sake of your father and the media, you will pay for my schooling?" Dean sighed. Was he speaking Spanish? Even thought this entire conversation was hard to follow.

"Yes. What are you in now, college? I'll get you through, and take care of the loans. All you have to do is play fiancé for… until I say so." Castiel's eyes narrowed.

"And what other terms would there be?" Shit, Dean hadn't thought of that. They couldn't have just gotten engaged on a whim, Dean had told his father it was serious…

"We have to come up with a story… how we met, how long we have been together, crap like that, and you have to tell it… to everyone. You can't let the truth out." Castiel nodded.

"And?" Dean thought again… to be engaged, they'd have to be… living together… shit.

"You have to…" Dean sighed. "You have to come… live with me. I have a guest bedroom… and you could stay there… but for the sake of what everyone thinks, you have to come live with me." Castiel didn't seem to like that, but… Dean didn't either. Castiel spoke again, eyes narrowed.

"How do I know you won't murder me in my sleep?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"I won't… but if you still don't believe me, just call it a risk of the job." Castiel was silent for several more moments.

"I… I have two jobs, one at a library, and one at a grocery store… although I might like to quit the one bagging groceries now… if tuition is not an issue. I live here with my brother, who will require an excuse as to why I did not tell him of my relationship. My school hours are fairly regular… and I do not require much space. I like to be left alone when reading and writing, and I believe you are correct in the assumption we will need a story, because I am not very skilled at lying on my feet. If this is sufficient with you, I believe I am 'on board' as they say." Dean blinked. That was the most he'd ever heard the guy say.

"Uhm… okay, well…" Dean quickly went over all the information. He was then reminded that he would need to make up an excuse as to why he hadn't told Sammy about his beloved boyfriend.

"My name is Castiel, by the way." Dean almost laughed at the absurdity of the man just now telling Dean his name.

"I know." Castiel quirked just on eyebrow this time.

"Are you sure you aren't stalking me?" Dean scoffed.

"It was on your driver's license." Castiel smiled softly, looking away.

"Of course." Castiel seemed to be waiting for Dean to speak up again. Dean simply ran over everything in his mind. He did it. He found someone to pretend with him. He had no doubts that his dad would lend him money to help his _fiancé _through school. This entire thing was ridiculous. He was going to lie to his father, his mother, his brother, and the general public, move in with a complete stranger, and pretend to be engaged with him. And this… this could work. Finally, Dean looked up.

"So uh," he said, the words sounding distant even to his ears. "We're really doing this?" Castiel gave a small smile.

"I don't believe I have a choice." And Dean almost felt… offended. Whatever, the guy could be a dick, he didn't have to like him, and what were the odds he'd find someone else to fill the role? Just as Dean was about to respond, Castiel unexpectedly spoke again. "So, since you are… the employer of this… situation…" Dean snorted. "I believe you should make the story." Dean paused. This dude wanted to do this now? Of course, he struck Dean as the kind of guy who needed to keep his shit together. Just his luck. But, he supposed there was no time like the present. This was moving way to fast. Whatever. What else could he do? SO, he decided to awkwardly stutter out.

"So, you're in school, right?" Castiel nodded incredulously. Dean scowled again. "So, well… I finished school, so that wouldn't be a good place…" he scratched the back of his neck. Then it hit him. "You said you worked in a grocery store?" Castiel nodded.

"It was… unpleasant." Dean almost smiled. Almost.

"So, I could've met you in a grocery store… when I…" He cleared his throat. "When I told my dad I was in a relationship… I made it out to be… serious… so… let's say we've been seeing each other for, four months?" Castiel nodded, but then scrunched his face up, nose wrinkling.

"Why have I not… told my brother? He will be curious as to why he did not know of such serious involvement. " Dean paused, then slowly said the first thing that came to mind.

"Maybe… you didn't want to tell him… you were gay?" Castiel merely shook his head, looking deep in thought.

"That would not work. Gabriel has known I am a homosexual since age fifteen." Dean breathed an internal sigh of relief. It was not as is he was looking to jump into the guy's pants or anything, but knowing he was gay as well took a hell of an awkward weight off of Dean's shoulders. He wouldn't have asked him if he hadn't had the feeling (which he did as soon as he walked into the apartment) but he'd learned a while ago not to assume. It seemed like his 'gaydar' was functioning properly though. Sam would never let him hear the end of it if he could see inside of Dean's thoughts. Dean internally groaned, and then moved back to the issue at hand, the still intensely thinking Castiel.

"Dude?" He said, waving a hand.

"Do not pester me, I am compensating for your lack of thought." Well, what a dick. Dean merely scowled, until Castiel snapped his fingers. "We could say you were concerned with alerting the media before the relationship became too serious, and if asked… we could say you proposed… tonight." Dean grimaced. That scenario kind of made him sound like a dick, however, when put in the situation, he could not think of anything better. So, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, so we're doing this… then." Castiel nodded, running a hand through already mercilessly messed up hair.

"Yes, it appears we… are." The silence crept back over the room for the umpteenth time that night, and finally Dean broke it, with a sarcastic grin, and a,

"So then, Castiel Novak, will you do me the honor, of becoming my wife?" Castiel scowled. And then, the front door to the apartment opened.

* * *

Castiel was not sure what he was doing. It was the dumbest thing he had ever agreed to. A man, practically off the street, comes into his apartment, and asks for his hand in marriage? And Castiel let him in. And accepts. He was seriously beginning to doubt Gabriel's faith in his intelligence. After all, the only proof Castiel had that the man was who he said he was, was a picture from a magazine. But it wasn't as if Castiel had a choice.

In a way, this was the… unorthodox… miracle Castiel had asked for. The way to save himself… Gabriel. Castiel wanted nothing more than to continue his schooling, but he could not longer allow Gabriel to work himself into the ground to do it. With Castiel gone, and his school paid for, Gabriel's money could go straight to rent, and he could work himself less ragged. Castiel could even use his library money to help Anna with her medical bills, if he was to be staying with Dean.

And if agreeing to a whirlwind proposal by a cocky jerk to keep the media bay was what he needed to do, so be it. Castiel had survived, much, much worse, and he was half convinced he was dreaming anyway. He'd finally begun to settle into the silence when a cocky grin stretched across Dean's face.

"So then, Castiel Novak, will you do me the honor, of becoming my wife?" What a jerk. Castiel fucking agreed to this to help his family, but he would not take any shit from Mr. Dean-Media-Man-Smith. So just as he scowled (something he seemed to be doing a lot lately) the door to the apartment opened with a starling bang, wood slamming into the plaster.

"Castiel! My dear baby brother! I apologize for my absence, and hope you come to forgive me, for I love you with all my heart!" Came the unmistakable voice of Gabriel as he walked in, tossing the car keys in the bowl. Castiel froze. He had not expected Gabe to return. At first, he stilled completely, on the verge of panicking, before the calm voice in his head repeated, 'it's okay, stick to the plan, the plan, start with introductions, he came over to visit, nothing weird.' But, Gabriel beat him to the punch line, when his eyes settled on Castiel and his… husband to be, and he yelled, "Dean?" Now Castiel was very confused.

Gabriel walked into the room, dropping his coat on the floor and closer to the two of them, inspecting them as if they were insects. He turned to Castiel again, "What's Dean-o doing here?" And finally, Castiel gathered his brains off the floor and responded, his voice thick.

"You uhm… know Dean?" Gabriel laughed.

"Yeah, comes into my shop all the time, he's a whore for my pies." He gave Dean a sly smile, and Dean seemed to melt into the floor, willing himself anywhere but there. He didn't blame Dean. Gabriel could be a little much. Gabe turned back to Castiel now, eyes narrowing. "Question is… how do you know him?" And in that moment, Castiel took in a deep breath, gathered up all of his courage, and said on an exhale,

"Gabriel… this is Dean… as you know it seems… my… my fiancé." Then Gabriel looked truly speechless. But it didn't last long.

"What!?"

* * *

So, like it? Hated it? I'm so sorry it was so short and I will try to lengthen the next one, I'm just trying to get some school stuff, and other fanfictions done, so... anyway, reviews fuel the ImpalaPorn Creativity Bank! Thanks for reading!

Love,

ImpalaPorn


End file.
